Thyra Henriksen

[Thyra Henriksen]

THYRA HENRIKSEN
PLAYED BY : JENNY HARPER

THE CHARACTER

FULL NAME: Thyra Ingeborg Henriksen
NICK NAMES: Ty, Tea
PREFERRED NAME: Thyra, Tea
AGE: 24
GENDER: Female
OCCUPATION: Archaeologist, student, preservation expert
HOME REGION: Northeast
PREFERRED WEAPONS: viking sword, bows and arrows

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Thyra stands at 6 ft tall, causing her to tower over most women, though her posture leaves a lot to be desired, as she has a very slight unintentional slouch when she stands. Being quite skinny, you'd expect this long and lanky girl to have bones poking out in every direction, and yet, she has a slim lean muscle tone that covers her body nicely and makes her skinniness look fortunately natural - as it very well should, since it is. Her blonde hair is kept short, framing an oval face of high cheek bones and rather large light grey eyes. Typical Scandinavian features follow mostly every contour of her body and face; complete with what many would consider a 'fortunate' bosom, and a rather unfortunately flat bottom. Growing up a rather clumsy child, she is covered in quite a few scars, the worst of which presents itself reaching from her right-side hip bone to just below her bosom, and another going up the length of her shin, both caused by crashing a sled into an open metal shop. Only one tattoo dons her body; an outline of Ötzi the iceman, on her left forearm.

PERSONALITY: Thyra is quite difficult to pin down to having anything but contradictory personality traits; on one hand, she is level-headed and highly logical. Not much rattles her, or makes her panic, angry, or lash out in any other type of strong negative emotion. On the other hand, she is excitable like a child, extremely easy to please, and always over excited about the little things. This goes hand-in-hand with her rather energetic and hyper personality. She has always been a bit of a nerd, interested in things like Star Trek, and H.P. Lovecraft, but not just that... academia was her first love, and her constant thirst for knowledge makes her seek out learning absolutely everything she can, and yet she is also proud of the fact that she considers herself smarter than most, and is therefore a pain in the ass, since she is quite a know-it-all and finds herself spurting out random facts that are mostly irrelevant. That being said, she is practiced in a lot of different fields, satisfying her intense learning-ADD, never happy to just settle with one topic of expertise. Her sense of humor is a slightly mean and jabbing type of sarcasm, and she has a hard time keeping herself from answering anything without that sarcastic humor setting its mark on the conversation. While she considers it hilarious (yes, she finds herself hilarious), many people may find it annoying or offensive. Since the apocalypse she has been adamantly, and somewhat coldly logical, not considering others, only thinking about herself, and how she may survive, even if it means screwing over others. It has rather taken a toll on her otherwise happy personality and turned a bit sour, though one is pressed to believe that may change if she only were around other people.. quite frankly, Thyra herself could not tell you, as she has systematically avoided people since the event.

LIKES

• Books, science, and academia
  
• Multi-taskers (items that can work for several purposes)
  
• Historical items
  
• Leather, pipes, and scotch
  
• Climbing trees and playing games
  

DISLIKES

• Stupid people
  
• Fashion and pop culture
  
• "Political correctness"
  
• Bacon
  
• Driving in cars
  

HISTORY BEFORE: Thyra, as may be evident, was born in the Scandinavian country of Denmark, to two quite loving and encouraging parents, Birgit and Finn Henriksen. Her father was a computational scientist in Odense, where he taught just that at a university. Her mother, a hairstylist. Much of the first years of her life were uneventful - she learned to speak, read, and write in Danish by the age of 4, and was then heavily encouraged by her parents to learn a second language, and yet it was only because Thyra herself insisted. At this point, it was not for academic reasons, simply because she disliked reading subtitles, and wished to understand the American shows being shown on television. Fortunately, progress was made when, at the age of 6, her father was offered a well-paying job in Boston, Massachusetts. They promptly packed their things and moved to the other side of the Atlantic, where Thyra grew up bi-lingual and only more happy for it.

Thyra was in awe of her father, who she surely considered one of the most brilliant men she'd ever met, and yet was puzzled by his choice in a partner. Her mother, she considered only to be one of the dumbest people she had ever met. The woman would never as much as glance at a book, and never had any desire to further her knowledge. At this point in her life, Thyra was beginning to see that this must surely be a mistake - knowledge is everything! It was with this realization that Thyra began reading aloud to her mother, hoping she would appreciate the fountain of knowledge the little 8 year old had become. And yet, her mother thought of her only as an amusement, and her attempts to make her mother more interested in knowledge were moot. Defiant, she only soldiered on, thrusting herself into whichever topic was cool that week; maths, critical thinking, anthropology, library sciences, psychology.. she was an unstoppable force. Her father, always busy with work, and her mother not caring, she became desperate for someone to share these things with, only to find a small group of friends who had more or less the same interests. While never truly opening up to them, she found them to be the only academic support she had.

At the age of 10, her parents divorced, and her mother, lacking in a visa or green card, took Thyra back to Denmark. Here, she spent the next 7 years going through the motions of the educational system, excelling, but never allowed to advance as she would have liked to. It was when she finally had the chance to move back with her academically more appealing father, and join an educational system she thought would yield more prestige, that she moved back to Boston, and barrelled forward to college. Here, she excelled, and found her niche in archaeology. Sure, she was never truly happy with just one profession, and yet she found it wide-ranging enough to satisfy some small part of her, and she found it gave her enough free time to pursue her other interests - for the time being, of course.

With the support of a few faculty members, she was allowed to assist on several dig sites, one in Turkey, and another in Montana, namely. This, to her, was why she had chosen to do this. It wasn't just looking at pottery shards, or digging through mud for her... every mundane task, to her, seemed as interesting as any Indiana Jones movie. So she sought to join in as much as she could, and when the need for assistants grew lacking, she found a way to preserve this love of archaeology, along with many artifacts - she became a young member of a museum, in which she restored and preserved artifacts. All this, she did, while studying and moving at a rather brisk pace toward her Ph.D. With this love of history, came a large collection of replica, and real weaponry - longbows, rapiers, viking swords, you name it.. she was obsessed, and her walls were covered in the most dangerous-looking decor one could imagine.

Social life had never been her strong suit, as people never truly seemed to enjoy her company. To her, this was a mystery, as she always found herself quite hilarious and a great fountain of information. While none truly appreciated her, it did not stop her from making friends, ones that were quite uncannily like-minded. The museum people became those people, and she would spend many hours after work with them at the museum. And yet, the friend she was most fond of, was a security guard called Jonathan.. strangely, while he was not as smart as she'd have liked, he somehow appealed to her. He, she always thought, was her only romantic interest her entire life, and yet she could never even consider actually being with him. Her high standards for intelligence and logic behind picking a mate never allowed her to express anything she might have one day felt for him.

DURING APOCALYPSE: It was late in the museum. Thyra had spent all day cataloguing and reassembling a pot of Byzantine origins. She had always felt a slight twinge of unhappiness putting ancient things together, much preferring the mystery it held in its original shattered state. Yet she understood the need for reassembly, and was leaning over a microscope to examine a shard more closely when the door flew open, causing her to start and jab her eye against the eye piece of the microscope. Now unable to open one of them, she glared at the intruder. Jonathan was standing in the doorway, sweating, coughing, looking a complete mess. "Take another dive in the Roman fountain, Johnny?" she asked jokingly, not truly concerned, more worried about whether she'd ever be able to open her eye again.

When Johnny fell over, a slack dead body in front of her, she merely frowned, and got up to examine him. Whether she found it fascinating, or was concerned was hard to tell. No pulse, she reacted quickly, picking up the phone and dialing 911. Predictably, there was no answer, causing her to simply roll her eyes at the deplorable service of the emergency workers, and getting on her knees to give him CPR. At a loss, after what seemed a lifetime of attempting to resuscitate her friend, she finally took a deep breath, looked at the dead man, felt nothing. She had gone slightly numb at the sight of the man she had once thought could be a partner. A woman of rather logical actions and thoughts, she then stood, straightened her shirt, and took off at a brisk pace down the echoing and empty museum hallways.

Attempting again and again to call what she thought to be the most logical people to call she made her way toward the exit of the museum, and opened the door. The employee parking lot was empty, save her bicycle and Jonathan's car. Her eyes flicked to his car. This was an emergency, was it not? as much as she loathed the idea, she ran back through the museum to get Jonathan's keys, only to be stumped at the sigh of him back on his feet. Looking more dead than alive, she still couldn't help but give a small smile to see he wasn't dead as she had thought. But in her stride toward the man, she frowned, and stopped in her tracks. How did this make any sense? it didn't. All of a sudden she was hesitant. Gripping a broom, she watched the man doing nothing but glare at her. She said nothing, for fear that this was all some terrible trick, she reached the brook handle out to retrieve the keys hanging on his belt, put it through the keyring...

Jonathan came sprinting for her, pushing the broom through her fingers, splinters catching her flesh. As effortless as it may have seemed, her mind raced to make her step aside, forcing him to run the broom into a wall, snapping it in half, and piercing his belly. Her eyes widened as he said nothing, did nothing, but turn around and sprint for her once again. This time, she was prepared, and biting back the pain of the splinters in her hand she reached for Jonathan's keys, tore his pants getting them, and simply falling over next to him. Quickly, she found her feet, ran back through the museum, but then stopped in front of a rusted viking sword inside a case. Feeling, finally, a twinge of sadness at leaving such an artefact behind, she took a deep breath and continued running.

Jonathan's car stood alone in the parking lot, making spotting it simple. She entered, drove off, and ignored all feelings, people, and chaos going on on her way to her home. When she reached her home, she packed only what she thought necessary, camped herself on the roof of her building, and waited.

ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE:

Thyra was determined, she thought, as she stepped near the edge of the roof. She had grown quite a few muscles in the last few months, confronting the zombies, finally, with the group of survivors she had departed only days ago.. but was it enough? she wondered. She had certainly taken on one or two on her own before, but she didn't know how many were inside the convenience store - it was boarded up quite nicely. Whether this was in her favour, she could not discern, as she heard a clink from inside. Eyes flickering from the ladder whence she came, to the ground below her, she shook her head, took a deep breath, and climbed back down the ladder.

"Squirrel it is!" she then said, stepping toward the electric bicycle she had fortunately found the day before. Sitting down, her sheath string caught the saddle of the bike, tangled her momentarily, and instantly caused paranoia to flare up. She had been grabbed one too many times to not let a tug at her side disturb her. Breathing a sigh of relief as she realized what had done it, she untangled herself, and began down the street. Luckily, the quiet isolation had always been somewhat of a comfort to her, for that is what haunted the streets on which she was riding. She even felt comfortable enough to whistle 'tip-toe through the tulips'.

She made it back to her campsite, or what she liked to call a campsite, but was merely a net in a tree, in which she slept, and an old firepit, and, of course, an early-warning system of cans and string. She had set traps, hoping to catch small game near her campsite, which she now diligently checked, only to find nothing in two, and a rotten foot in another. She wasted no time in wondering how that got there, but simply took as a sign to move on, mumbling "most unfortunate.. I feel absolutely certain the squirrels will miss me." Grinning to herself, not disheartened, as not many things discouraged her, she packed, and left silently as she had come.

PLANS: Whatever seems appropriate at the time.

ANYTHING ELSE?: I don't think so!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

GO BY: Thyra
ROLEPLAY LEVEL: erh... 1-10... whatever you need me to be.
HOW DID YOU FIND US?: ... can't remember. Sorry. Probably google or something.
PASSWORD: *****
TIME ZONE: EST

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[Cole Peyton]

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